Christmas window-shopping in Paris

As travel is sadly out of the question this Christmas, I have been consoling myself with a little window shopping via my photos of last Christmas/New Year in Paris.

Windows surely don't come more stylish than this. It strikes me now that the themes were red, white and gold everywhere you looked.

(the wonderful Astier de Villate on rue Saint-Honoré)

(restaurant window, above and below, on Ile St Louis)

 

and finally, what the well-dressed Parisian dog was wearing last winter ...

Birthday Babe

 Styling big sister's hair, Cape Town 1998

Water baby, 2003

 10th birthday, Cape Town 2006

Ice Princess, Stockholm, 2007

 Gondola girl, Venice 2007

Speed queen, Kefalonia 2008

London 2010

 Happy 14th birthday, Bella!

Snowbound; goodbye Vienna

Wild flurries of this ...

 

 all of Friday and Saturday 

have led to a large dumping of snow

that has caused travel chaos (various members of our family this weekend have been gridlocked on the M4, stuck twice in thick snow on smaller roads, helped several other people dig their cars out of similar predicaments, and had trains and tubes delayed, diverted and/or cancelled)

 

But worst of all, as Heathrow and Gatwick shut down, our holiday plans have turned to snowdust. At this moment we should be in Vienna, sipping gluhwein at a Christmas market under the spires of Stephansdom, dreaming of coffee and pastries at an elegant Viennese cafe in the morning ... I could weep with frustration. 

All alternative options have been tried and failed. Meanwhile we trudged to the store for provisions à pied, since nobody had the will to either dig out the car or attempt the hazardous drive ...

(images of the gulag?: inmates struggle to the supply store under leaden skies)

and some disconsolately made snow angels in an effort to cheer up

(child lies frozen to the wasted ground)

 

Yes, I know this is trivial and middle class as misfortunes go, and no doubt I will recover my Christmas spirit at some point, but for the meantime I need to rail loudly at  British  inadequacy in dealing with standard winter weather conditions, and  then perhaps take myself off with a glass or three of my current favourite Portuguese red (Crasto, Douro 2008) and the new book I've been wanting to start (the latest Le Carré) and have a bloody good sulk.

Gaudeamus igitur ...

They came to London from all over the world to get a postgraduate degree that would make a difference to their lives, open new doors for professional advancement. 

 Many made sacrifices - both financial and in the leaving of wives, husbands and young children far away. All felt the weight of expectations on them and the pressure from family or employers to succeed.

 

Many struggled with culture shock and  the disillusionment that London is not all about famous sights and grandeur, but also cold, dirty and grim in parts.  The study was hard, demanding and intense. 

But yesterday at this happy ceremony in the Barbican theatre, full of music, pomp and ritual, it was all good, all joyful. 

 

Colourful crowd of academics waiting to process into the theatre.

They posed with proud family and friends, while their teachers and tutors willingly smiled for endless photographs

A cycle completed,  a job well done, even as we're in the middle of the next cycle - just a pause to remind ourselves what it's all about.

A Snow Day: Life's little pleasures

Some days just turn out to be unexpected little pleasures. When it started snowing again in earnest around midnight last night, I got an inkling; then, when the call came at 5.30 this morning to say school was closed, I knew for sure that a) Daughter the Younger had the day off and b) I did not, strictly speaking, need to be at work.   

After days of battling the commute with yet another tube strike, icy pavements, sub-zero temps and winds direct from Siberia, it was bliss to burrow back under the covers ...

... while the world outside turned silently whiter.

Some trashy, pyjama-ed telly-watching followed (I won't fess up to exactly what, it's too embarrassing), though when I read this a pang of guilt struck as I recalled the pile of essays waiting to be marked.

Tomorrow it's once more unto the breach dear friends (Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!') - for me at least (Daughter the Y has just had official notice of another snow day, causing widespread Facebooked joy). 


At least I won't be doing battle with knee-deep snow and driving blizzards as my Scots lassie has this week in the far north, where pyjama days are unheard of because a) they're made of sterner Calvinist stuff, of course and b) they have newfangled things such as "snowploughs" of which we simpler english types have not yet heard. 

Just for today, I'll cosy up and take life's small reprieves where I can. 

Of Snow and Turkeys

We woke to a fairy dust of early snow and plenty of ice yesterday morning -

 ... just a taster of what's to come, apparently, as it spreads down from the north of the country, already deep in snow - see here - (my Scots lassie buried in white stuff! - here)


By late afternoon it had vanished, in time for a Thanksgiving celebration with American friends who live in nearby farmland

(And grateful we were that the snow had melted, having been stuck more than once on these steep country lanes)

Lighted windows and open fires invited us inside from below-freezing temperatures.

It's all about abundance, harvest, friends, counting your blessings and indulging in a jolly pig-out ...

And with vegan tofu-turkey -

 

- and Turkey-Buddha bestowing his blessings 

how could we not feel thankful?